Soul of the Bat
by CrossRow
Summary: Post Batman Begins story involving Bruce Wayne getting his world turn upside down when a beautiful forgotten heiress steps out the darkness. When he unmasks her heart, he also unveils a deadly secret that will cost his soul.
1. Chapter 1

**Soul of the Bat  
**

** All characters belong to Christopher Nolan and DC Comics**

**Disclaimer : I do not own any of these characters  
**

**I do own all my OC Characters**

* * *

"Don't be afraid. Pretend it's all just a bad dream."

Seven-year-old Ariana Locken watched her mother's soft blue eyes slowly drift shut as she placed her tiny hand, brushing her shaky fingers over cold ashen knuckles. The bone chilling sense of death lashed across her tumid body as the flashes of red from the police cars outside reflected in her teary blue irises. She promised her mother that she would be strong no matter what happened between them. That she was a big girl and she refused to shed tears. But tears escaped from her shattering soul anyways and slide down her cheek into the puddles of blood, creating ripples.

Ariana didn't want sympathy from the officers huddling around her._ They put on semblances to comfort her. She saw right through their emotions. They were used to death. Murder._

The blanket covered her mother's lifeless body. Shrouded over the memories and beauty that once was there. Now all those things were frozen into icy vessel that will never be awoken by warmth.

Innocence that was inside Ariana was fading into a dark abyss of her stirring soul, making coldness run through her veins. She felt the jabs of remorse strike her small body as darkness cast a shadow over her fair features.

"What about the girl?" she listened to two of the officers conversing in the hallway. "Does she have any known relatives?"

"None that are stated in the will." Detective Henry Mills confirmed, his shadowy brown eyes glanced over at the dark haired heiress kneeling next to the covered body of Vera Locken. "There might be more information as we further through the investigation. If we can't find a blood related caregiver, the girl will sent to an orphanage."

Ariana squeezed her eyes steel-blue eyes shut, allowing the hot tears sting behind her closed lids. "No," she snarled her lip into a frown as she opened her watery eyes and stared at the other white linen covering up the bodies of her family.

Her father, Jacob and two eldest sisters Ella and Sara. She was the only witness and survivor of the Locken family massacre. The only one that will stand in front of the four marble markers in the estate's cemetery and place roses on each grave. Now, she was target to the sordid demon that took her loved ones away from her. She knew that there would be no escape from the guilt and pain that was coursing through her veins.

The only person she could trust as her father's oldest friend, William Crest, a history professor from Cockney England, and also a very kind man.

Ariana took one last glance at her family, and quickly rose off the floorboards, she melted into the shadows of the book cases, filching involuntary and waited for the group of officers to turn their backs, and then she bolted out the French glass doors and raced down the stone steps into the darkness of the vast gardens. She kept on running until she reached the clearing of shuddering pines but froze in her paced strides at the deafening sound numbing inside her ears.

A blinding flash of inferno highlighted the grounds of the entire Locken family estate. Ariana felt the vibrations of the explosion rumble beneath her bare feet, she quivering lips parted as she turned around and faced the fiery embers consuming the mansion. It engulf the parked vehicles, burning timbers sparked and cracked windshields of police cruisers. Around her paramedics were screaming out distressed cries as they rolled onto the graveled stone driveway.

Ariana shuttered at the feeling of all those charred and melted bodies of those officers. The orange glow of the fire became captured in her moist eyes. She stood rigid staring at her family's legacy and everything she cherished burn into ash and clouds of blackish smoke. She bother to look away from the horrific sight, instead she crashed to her knees and pounded the palms of her hands into the crisp grass. She cried slightly and watched everything die.

"No!" she felt breath erupt from her lungs as she screamed out a mournful cry. Her mind flashed to the night she was dancing on ballroom floor, her feet enveloped over her fathers large ones.

Ariana had convinced herself that it was going to stay like those moments forever. She had laughed with her sisters, watched her parents twirling and embrace the other in a elegant waltz. Everything was perfect, they were a happy. She had convinced herself that her parents would grow old in the halls of the mansion but fate was cruel. Ariana swallowed a constricting lump down her raw throat. She refused to tore her gaze away from the smoldering blaze. She felt the flames burn through her. _Scorching her weakening body._

"Pretend it's a dream," she sniffled, wiping away the tears off her cheeks with the back of her hands. "When you awake everything will be okay."

The little heiress dug her face into her hands, "Mommy…" she sobbed, feeling her skin become feverish. "Daddy…" She lifted her head and looked at the rising flames. "Come back! Please come back!"

A eerie presence brushed over her trembling body, Ariana froze, her heart fluttering in her chest as the rustling sounds of branches jarred her attention. She kept herself still, and closed her eyes as a massive shadow covered her own.

"What's matter little princess," a serpentine voice hissed. "Miss your mommy and daddy?" Ariana clamped her eyes tighter as the stranger placed his cold bone-chilling hand on her shoulder, making her body tense up to reaction of his cursive touch.

"Don't worry you'll see them soon…" he chuckled with a deathly gleam in his dark eyes , and then without a warning and jabbed a dagger right into her back. The child gasped in shock, her breath was heavy as every limb of her body twitched.

Blood drained from her cheeks, she listened to the malicious words echo in her ears.

"You're not going to die little girl. You're going to life without the light. In darkness of your grief." he spatted. "The soul that lives inside of you will turn to shadow….and you taste remorse and crave for vengeance. You'll become thirsty until the darkness of your heart consumes you." He pulled the knife out from her back, held it to the glow of firelight and stared at the strain of blood.

"Perfection of the night. Normal as the day." he chimed, swiping his tongue over the blade, and indulging the taste of her blood down his throat.

Ariana closed her eyes and crashed to the ground, her skin was turning into ashen and ruby lips pale as a rose fading in the snow. She jolted and gulped down her breath, and the stranger watched her humanity fade into the blanket of darkness.

"I will…" she managed to whisper out her vow. "...find the light."

"Not if the night claims you first."

* * *

_Chapter 1_

_Boring._

The social class of Gotham, the yearly winter fundraiser was a snooze fest with Veronica Veeland as the attention grabbing and flippant hostess, she was on the center floor, thick copper tinged locks cascading off her bare back as train of her one shoulder emerald satin dress dragged on the granite flooring. Her polished burgundy nails grazed over every shoulder of Gotham's elite and her sleek legs rubbed against the press trousers of her partners as she twirled atop of her heels and smiled as the cameras flashed and captured her flawless visage.

"Don't be shy gentlemen…there's plenty of Roni to go around," she smirked and giggled with an amusing glint in her sparking aquamarine eyes. She gazed at the thong of elegantly dressed Gothamites sipping bubbling champagne, conserving about their stockholders and then locked her gaze at one sharp suited man dressed in a charcoal grey suit jacket standing regally near the glass terrace doors. She brushed her fingers off her dance partner and sauntered closer to doors with an inviting beam of charm expressed on her pale features.

"Brucey Wayne," she said with a teasing ring in her girlish voice. "Fancy seeing you at one of Daddie's parties." She pulled herself closer, almost crawling all over him, flashing her glistening Valentine charm bracelet in his unimpressed hazel eyes. "Like my latest gift that Daddy got me, Brucey?"

Bruce cringed inwardly at her snobby careless tone. He sighed and wrapped his hand gently over her thin wrist and admired her expensive silver chained trinket, with ruby jeweled hearts, golden arrows and diamond snow flakes hanging from the bracket. "It's very beautiful, Roni." he said with a quite voice and expressed an off look as a few calls from women dressed in red and blue cocktail dresses jarred his attention. He fought the overwhelming desire to roll his eyes and looked down at the hall empty glass of sparkling cranberry firmly in his hand.

Veronica laughed. "Looks like you adoring fan club wants a kiss for those soft lips of yours, Brucey." She gestured a dainty hand to a woman with short hair holding up a paper cut out of a heart.

Bruce sighed and took a large sip of the sugary punch, ready to splash it on his face as he stared at the group of women beckoning for him to come and join their circle. "I'll see you around, Roni." He said, setting his jaw down hard and swallowed down his courage as his legs reluctantly carried him across the floor. He grimace inhaled a smog of perfume as his eyes started to burn and he could taste in the depths of his throat.

"Well, well." Bruce tensed at the slap on his back. "Bruce Wayne." the voice of Franklin Earle chimed in his ear. "Now this is a rare sight to see."

Bruce turned his slight, stepping back a few footfalls as he met the blue orbs of the son of ex-CEO William Earle, Franklin Crossmane Earle, a spoiled blonde haired brat that spent too much time emptying out his divorced parents accounts and less time doing things that really matter on the streets of Gotham.

He curved his lips into a false smile, "Not as rare of seeing your dear old dad enjoying his retirement pay on the Caribbean islands, Franklin." He shot back with a defiant raise of his chin. "But of course you wouldn't know about that because you've been to busy blowing his shares in Switzerland."

Franklin's jaw nearly dropped with a dumbfounded gaze and he asked with an edgy voice, "How the hell do you know all about that, Wayne?"

"Let's just say…I make it my business to know about the daily lives of corrupt…I mean the fired CEO's and their families splurges." Bruce drawled.

"You have members of board spying on us, Wayne?" he half-snarled. "Who is it…wait you don't have to answer that, Brucey, it's that man my dad stuffed into the closet space of the R and D department, Lucius Fox."

Bruce kept his calm and regal poise, he crinkled his nose. "No actually I have different way of finding out information on nonrefundable expenses. The way I'm looking at, Franklin…there's been a decrease in you Swiss bank account which means you might not have enough…buy your fiancée that cut stone diamond ring you promised her back in Madrid."

He raised his eyebrows with his smooth lips gracing an amusing smirk.

"It can see you're really in the holiday spirit," Franklin scoffed with a befuddled gaze in his blue eyes."What's wrong your old butler? Forget to put roses on your parent's grave again."

Bruce's countenance transformed into something darker, and threatening. His soft hazel-green embers burned as he curved his lips into a scowl and barred his teeth. His breath was fuming behind his clenched teeth as he looked at the weak points on Frankin's slender body and process the perfect usage of a sleeper hold but instead glared at the younger man and laughed hollowly, "No. He's been busy cleaning up the cobwebs of your father's old office."

Franklin's jaw twitched, "You're still a spoiled brat, Wayne." he dejected with an irritation in his voice.

"Takes one to know one, Franklin." Bruce retorted back quickly with the grace of playful smirk on his smooth lips. He stuffed his hand comfortably in the pocket of his trousers. "Give you dear old dad a hug for me." He patted Franklin's on the shoulder and then casually strutted across the room.

In truth, he just wanted to escape from the chatting and the annoying instrumental music blaring from the wall mounted speakers. He slipped through the crowds of obnoxious men, all rattling and bragging about the amount of the number of zeroes in their bank accounts that quickly dissolved into sour toned jeers and monotone laughs as one of them, a tall and with blonde hair, Patrick Sonogrove called out his name, "Bruce."

The young billionaire paused in his strides and did a quick turn around and met the dark brown eyes of his old Princeton classmate. He felt the edges of his mouth slack into a friendly smile and gently nodded to Patrick. "Patrick, wow it's so good to see you." He flickered his eyes down an admired the golden wedding ring on the man's finger. He recalled Alfred insisting on him to attend the wedding after receiving a richly designed invitation but he was engaged with other important things -the safety of Gotham from the self liberated rouge, Johnathan Crane aka the Scarecrow and dealing with Gotham's newest crime boss, Salvatore Marioni.

"Listen, I'm sorry that I couldn't make it to you and Angela's wedding." Bruce deadpanned. "I was buried 24 hours straight with dealings with overseas companies and other very droll matters that involved lots of paperwork."

"Geeze, Bruce. You don't need to explain yourself." Patrick replied., noticing the dark circles that hung over the billionaire's eyes. " Hey you okay? You like look you've haven't slept for days?"

Bruce shrugged his tensed shoulders, and spoke with a sheepish monotone "Too many late nights with Victoria Secret models will suck the life out of you."

"Oh, Brucey." A woman with blue puppy dog eyes chimed out from the circle near the dessert table. "Don't keep us waiting."

"I'll be right with you, ladies," Bruce turned around and flashed with one of his heart-stopping smiles. He turned his attention back to Patrick. For a moment his hazel embers locked with Patricks's dark ones. He noticed a visible scar on the man's left cheek that ended on the corner of his lip. It was covered with flesh tone makeup. Instead of making assumptions he quickly said, "We should catch up some time…maybe nine hole on the course?"

Patrick nodded, and pulled out a business card from an interior pocket of his suit. "Here's my card." he said, handing it to Bruce. "The number is on the back." he started to chuckle underneath his breath. He cleared his throat and looked at Bruce with a dangerous glint in his eye before concluding, "Have a good night, Bruce."

Bruce watched his old schoolmate disappear in the thong of guests, he pursed his lips and rolled a glance around the room, and his darken gaze settled on the terrace. His escape. He grabbed a glass of punch from a pasting server, and comfortably stuffed his hand inside the pocket of his trousers. He casually strutted to the balcony doors and slipped outside, ignoring the calls from the impatient women beckoning for his handsome presence.

The cold air was a refreshing sensation on his cut-stone features, as Bruce moved to the ledge and placed his palms on the iron rail, his hooded gaze stared passively out at the cluster of buildings, shadows highlighted over his sharp masculine cheekbones and his lips were slacked into a thin line. His hazel eyes lifted to the clouded sky, his heart was pounding a steady beat against his chest, knowing that the bat signal will soon illuminate over the darkening metropolis.

* * *

After a few moments of deep thought, Bruce carelessly dumped the contents of the sugary punch over the edge, as his solemn eyes still remained changeless to the skyscrapers across his view. He pursed his lips, looking down at the traffic on the streets, not paying attention to a beautiful lithe figure concealed in the shadows by the wall. His sharp hearing picked up the clicks of heels against the cement behind him.

Slowly he turned his broad neck, looking over his shoulder, preparing to meet the fiery eyes of his kittenish admires, but instead he found himself absolutely breathless at the sight of piercing steel-blue eyes staring back at him.

The alluring stranger was wearing on shoulder dress, stain black that ended at her sleek thighs, the rich material hugged over her curves.

Dark auburn-golden fleck hair cascaded over her bare shoulders. Her facial features were angelic and cut-stone. Lips delicately red and full, but her eyes were the feature that enticed him the most. Shadows covered her deep-set gaze of intense embers of blue.

Bruce was suddenly dumbstruck, his chiseled jaw dropped slightly as she swayed her hips toward his territory. He cleared his throat, trying to think up something intelligent to stay to her but instead her soft Eastern European accented voice broke the silence.

"I hope you mind me staying but I'm having more fun out here than at the dessert tables."

Bruce felt the edges of his lips slack up into an infectious smile, "So am I," he replied, his eyes did another swipe over her body. "I…" He was becoming tongue-tied.

"It's okay," she lightly laughed, moving closer to the ledge, his rubbed her trim waist against the rails. Her blue eyes stared out at the fading sunset over the horizon. "It's beautiful isn't?"

"Yes, you are…" Bruce paused his words, his gaze was steady to her lips. "I mean yes, it is beautiful."

"I can see you're not one for conservation," she noted, shrugging her shoulders. "Neither am I."

Bruce pleasantly nodded, " Sorry for not introducing myself , I'm Bruce Wayne." He extended out a hand but she refused to shake it. He slightly frown.

"Don't take as an insult, Mr. Wayne. I don't trust people."

"Another thing we have in common," his voice was smooth and daring. "Miss…"

"Ariana Locken. My friends call me Ari." she answered. "Of course if I had friends that's what they would call me."

She narrowed her eyes, trying to avert herself from his penetrating hazel ones.

"So why come to Gotham?" he asked with a curious slur in his baritone. "Sight seeing?"

"I've always wanted to visit an American city. Gotham was on top of my list."

"Fair answer," he pulled himself close to her, allowing her to absorb every feature on his face. Ariana took a moment and raked her eyes over his handsome chiseled profile. He was gorgeous, razor-sharp cheeks, hooded determined hazel eyes and soft lips that curved at the edges. His eyes lit up when he smiled back at her. He gave her a sense of comfort when they locked into the other's stare.

"I guess they are wrong," she said with a breathless sigh, feeling her heart dance in her chest.

"About what?" he asked with a faint whisper.

"Gotham is full of beautiful people. You just have to look beyond shadows." She gave him a flash of a smile, and spun around on her heels. "Have a good evening, Mr. Wayne."

"Wait," He did a swift move and gasped her hand. "When can I see again?"

Ariana creased her eyebrows. "I don't think it will be a good idea if we saw each other again."

Bruce lowered his eyes, and drew out a cleansing breath. "Tomorrow is all I ask. After that you can rid of me."

"Alright," she said, mashing her teeth into her bottom lip. "Tomorrow meet me in front of Gotham's cemetery." She slipped her wrist out of his hold. "Before sunset."

Bruce was about to answer her when he caught the reflection of the bat signal out of the corner of his eye. He turned around and listened to the wailing sirens. "Why before sunset?" he continued to question.

But she was gone.

"Ariana,"

His eyes searched over the shadows of the balcony. She had vanished, as if she became a shadow herself.

Bruce grunted, as a smirk curved on his lips.

"Wait until Alfred hears this one."


	2. Chapter 2

-Chapter 2-

* * *

The city lights were a spectacle of amber glow reflecting off the buildings, she crouched on the ledge of a rooftop, her firm lips felt the chill of the wind and ravenous steel eyes searched in the clusters of darkness. Her lithe body, still as stone and gloved hands clenched against the cement. Ariana lifted her hooded gaze to the misty shape reflecting in the cloudy sky, a shape that she knew all too well. A shape that didn't define, but condemn her to a life of solitude and grief.

Each moment her eyes closed, images of her loved ones were clusters of thoughts. Dull ache seared through her body and vengeance blacken her heart. She felt her twisting soul rip to shreds and that made her less mortal under the grim semblance of the night.

Tonight, the little flickering flame welled deep within her was burning. She straighten on her heeled boots, stripping off her mask the moment she clicked the heels on the narrow path of the roof, allowing her arms to extend out to feel chills the updrafts to ease the tension running in her veins. Her temperate gaze captured the light and darkness around her, and coldness of her leather jacket seeped within her body.

Listening to the nighttime sounds of traffic, she jumped down on the terrace sensing disturbance of evil wavering in the air. The foul uncompromising demons of the dark, lurking in the alleyways, subway tunnels and the slums. She knew that the creatures were on edge tonight, good men wearing the uniforms of justice were working overtime to endure the safety of the families and innocence.

The difference between her line of work and the police, Ariana never got declaration of medals or picture printed on the morning paper. No, she wasn't a hero or a symbol of mortal good. She was a protector of shadow, drifter in the marked cities stained with innocent blood and a battered defender. There wasn't grantees that she would purge her cravings of tasting her prey's defeat, uncertainly divided her into two half's, morality and fear. No consistence of controlling limitations, of preventing herself of falling into the deep end, of embracing the sunlight.

Ariana ached to feel the warmth of human touch, the sweetness of a kiss and most importantly the love of masculine security.

What man would take her in his arms, hold her against his heart and share his world?

As her curvaceous figure obscured in the shadow, her lips parted to release steady exhales of breath by the sound of wailing sirens beneath her view, her blue eyes narrowed to the sidewalks caressed with muted orange. She cautiously observed her surroundings, her cheeks tensed and eyes gleamed a menacing glare to a familiar presence wafting in the air.

A muffled cry for help echoed in her ears.

Quickly, Ariana vaulted off the roof, striking her heels on a stairwell in perfect balance, settling her intense stare on three men dressed in hoods pinning a struggling young woman against the wall. One attacker swayed a knife close to the victim's trembling face, taunting her with hissing tones. The other two went through the woman's handbag, throwing out contents, and stuffing cash in their pockets. Ariana crouched herself lower in the umbra of the stairs, her back arch, hands clenched into fists and face darkened.

"So you boys like to make people feel afraid," Ariana spoke in a growling voice, making it projected in every corner of the alley. She crinkled her nose, breathing in the sweat glazing over their exposed skin. She heard the pulses of their hearts gallop wildly, and then a smile of amusement appeared on her red lips. Her eyes met the darkness and she jumped stealthy on the asphalt.

Three thugs would never exactly what happened. The man with a pistol disappeared in an encroaching shadow and a very brief grunt of pain. His friends instantly froze and watched with confusion his bulky frame slam against the wall and began searching in the shadows for their attacker, breathing heavy.

"Don't tell you boys are afraid of the darkness." she taunted behind him, with a hint of mirth in her tone. " You two reek of fear. I can smelt it pour out from your veins. And your heart beats I could practice my dance moves with."

She purposely clapped her hands, matching the rhythm of their elevating pulses. "Want to dance with me, boys?"

The man raiding the woman's purse dropped everything and pulled out his firearm. He aimed the muzzle at a moving shadow. He pulled the trigger and made the victim shudder at the clap of thunder. With a swipe of a heel in the air, his gun dropped into a slushy puddle and head jerked backwards as elbow rammed into his skull before his entire body was consumed with blackness. Now terrified, the last one standing fumbled for his weapon, but instead of defending himself, he began to run for it. But as soon, he made to the fence, a hand gripped him from behind, twisting him 360 degrees and tossed him against the wall with one single throw.

"Argh-" the man grunted in pain, rubbing his bruised forehead and blinked vividly against the cloudiness of his dimming vision. His dark eyes widened at the woman standing inches away from him, her daunting silhouette was covered with black leather long coat that ended at the knees and a lethal ambiance swaying as he squeezed his eyes shut and reopened them and met intense blue daggers cutting through his veins. "What the hell are you?"

"Someone you better stay away from," she answered before ramming her gloved knuckles into his thick jaw.

Wincing in pain and smacking the back of his throbbing skull against the wall, the thug closed his eyes and slammed his form to the ground. She searched in his pockets, removing out pieces of fine jewelery and stolen cash, and then she turned her head meeting the teary eyes of the woman shaking in her heels with mouth opened in shock.

Ariana moved forward, on a heartbeat she picked out the purse and threw it back to the woman. She caught it and looked at the auburn haired protector with awe glazing over her pale features.

"You better clear out of here," Ariana said firmly. "Darkness and young girls don't mix."

"Thank you," the girl quickly sputtered. "Thank you."

Ariana gave her a slight nod and stepped back, melting into the shadows, as if she was never there in the first place.

* * *

As late morning neared, the warmth of sunlight brushed over his chiseled features. Bruce slowly opened his sleep-fogged eyes to a empowering scent, brewed coffee next to the bed. He blinked against the wispy tendrils dangling over his shadowed eyes and turned his neck to the brightness of light beaming over his smooth chest. He cleared his raw throat, and allowed morning ambiance to become captured in the depth of hazel.

Grimacing, Bruce pushed himself on his elbows against the pillows, resting his scarred back against the headboard, intense stare pierced under his bangs as he shifted to the nightstand. Upon noticing a severing tray of the usual breakfast, morning coffee, and a whole-wheat bagel laced with cream-cheese a faint smirk brushed over his lips as he looked at the folded newspaper on a chair.

He arched his eyebrows to the black printed headline across the front page: Batman Hero or Menace.

"At least the press likes me," he muttered with a loop-sided smirk.

He roved a glance over at the pieces of his armor scattered on the polished floor, cape and cowl on the leather chair and gauntlets near the nightstand.

Bruce moaned lightly down his throat, rubbing his face as he pulled the covers off his half-naked body, allowing the sun's light tarnish over his densely compacted muscles. He took a minute, flexing his solid arms as he reached for the mug and inhaled the stream to awake his senses. He slid his legs off the bed, straightened his back and turned on his bare heels, meeting the gentle blue eyes of Alfred Pennyworth standing in the doorway with regal fashion.

"I trust you had an eventful evening, sir." Alfred said with a Cockney accent, moving forward to the bed. "Did you dance with your adoring public."

Bruce clenched his jaw, "When you mean adoring, Alfred, you mean very drool women that would love to put a leash on me."

"Don't worry, Master Wayne," Alfred grinned cheeky. "It takes time to meet the right one."

"That's the problem, Alfred," he drawled, and settled a glare on the cowl. "If I do meet somebody, I know she won't accept the dual life I have." He crossed his arms over his chest, drawing out a deep and frustrated sigh. "I need someone who shares the night almost as much as I do."

"Aye, that would a challenge, sir." the old Englishman replied. "I'll start digging."

Bruce's hazel eyes lit up at this, "Digging?" he slacked the edges of his mouth into a snug smile. "I appreciate it, Alfred but I think it's really necessary." He pursed his lips, at the thought of Ariana. "I met someone last night."

"Really?" Alfred cocked an eyebrow."Was she different from all the rest?"

Bruce nodded, "Different and very beautiful." he explained with a breathless sigh. "She had this way about her and a certain darkness that I can relate too, more than anyone else I met."

"Then perhaps you should take her out for coffee?" Alfred warmly quipped.

"Now you're pushing it," Bruce said, "I'm meeting her this afternoon."

Shuffling his feet to the huge portrait view windows, Bruce continued, "I taking it one day at a time, Alfred. Until I get to know her. The real her...because everyone wears a mask to hide their true selves."

Alfred walked closer, placing a firm down on his young master's shoulder. "Maybe it's time to take yours off, sir?"

He met his butler's hopeful gaze with his endearing hazel eyes._ I wish it was that simple, Alfred, but I wear many masks._


End file.
